


Altered Perspective

by alicat54c



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicat54c/pseuds/alicat54c
Summary: First meetings leave impressions, and Thomas meets a different side to his sides....The figure smiled from under the brim of his hat. “As you said, I’m your sarcastic side.  You can’t expect me to know everything not directly related to my function. If encompassed everything here, well, I would be you!”Thomas sniggered, the ball of tension in his chest loosening. “I guess. Well, I’m auditioning for this play, and I need to get into a more villainous mindset.”“So you decided to talk to the part of yourself that is…villainous?” Sarcasm pulled back, yellow gloved hand flying to his chest. Thomas noticed the teeth on his right side were needle sharp. “I’m hurt!”
Comments: 13
Kudos: 54





	Altered Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Trying my hand in the new fandom.

…

Thomas shifted on the couch, eyes screwed shut. Meditation was not as easy as wikihow made it sound. 

This was supposed to help him with his acting. 

He wanted to audition for the villain in the local theater’s latest play. The villain had all the best songs, all the most memorable lines, and a personality which…did not come naturally to Thomas. 

Thomas wanted the role as a learning opportunity, to expand his repertoire. He did not want to get shoehorned into always being the goody goody nice guy character. But getting into such a foreign mindset to play a dramatic villain was…harder than he thought.

He saw an interview online of a professional actor recommending that each scene be tied in with a memory, in order to evoke genuine emotion. That led into a wiki hole of research, which finally landed on relaxation techniques, in which you trained your mind to visualize the parts of yourself you can call up and emphasize, as different roles require. Or at lest, that was how Thomas planned on using it.

Which led to him sitting on the couch.

Oh yes, he felt /very/ productive. This was /so/ not a waste of time. 

Thomas tried visualizing his living room in minute detail. There was the TV, the blinds, staircase, kitchen crowded near the back. The details were hazy in his mind’s eye, but the internet assured him he would get better with practice.

Oh yes, mastering in an instant a technique others spend a lifetime perfecting was /totally/ the goal here. He /clearly/ should give up immediately, because his mind couldn’t recall the exact dimensions of the hallway.

And now to populate the space.

The /easiest/ part, by far. It’s not like it wasn’t hard enough picturing the entire room, and now he was just supposed to fill it with people representing his different mental projections as well!

You know, when you dream, you use faces of people you know to populate them, so wouldn’t it be messed up if-

Hush. While I’m /sure/ Thomas could concentrate on visualization, without a stream of consciousness monologue distracting him, I’m also sure he doesn’t want to try.

Multitasking has been shown to be ineffective-

Oh yes, this is the /exact right/ time for an information dump as well, I’m sure.

The clock is ticking in the background, this is such a waste of time-

Hush.

There, by the kitchen, a figure in a dark hat leaned against the wall. He gesticulated with each word, in a habit Thomas recognized from his own reflection.

Thomas’s brows furrowed, as his closed eyes tried to squint through the shadowy blanks of his visualization.

“Hi, hello! Is that you talking?” he said out loud.

The figure paused. He seemed to be wearing…some kind of cape? Or just a baggy coat? His lack of movement betrayed nothing, save surprise. The face turned, just enough for Thomas to make out his own face in profile, under the brim of a black hat.

One of the figure’s arms raised in an exaggerative pose. “Oh no, it’s one of the many other people in the room.”

Thomas sniggered. “So, you’re, what, my sarcastic side?”

The figure turned fully to face him, and Thomas noticed the pale patterning of scales along his cheek, and the single slitted green eye. 

Green eyed monster- the phrase shot lightning fast under Thomas’s main mental road. The snake made twisted his wrist into a grasping twist. The thought snuffed out before it could begin.

The slice of smile Thomas could see on the figure’s face widened. It seemed unpracticed. “Yessss I am. You’re clearly the sssmartest egg in the basssket, aren’t you?”

Thomas shifted in his seat. “Cool. I’m. Um. I’m Thomas.”

“Oh yes, we’ve met. It’s not like I’m apart of you or anything.”

“Ah ha ha, right.” Thomas fidgeted. The lump of shadows on the couch to his right seemed to edge closer, in sympathetic discomfort. “Um, do you want to come over here? We can talk? Or something? I don’t really know how this is supposed to work. The article I read only said visualization was supposed to help me get in touch with different sides of myself, so…”

The figure pushed himself up off the wall he had been leaning against, each approaching step a slink. His face lacked the laugh lines Thomas usually saw in the mirror. His shoulders were held more taught, as well, like an aristocrat, or a victorian gentleman. Very ominous. Very much what he needed to emulate for his role in the play.

Very, very disconcerting.

“So, what did you want to … talk to /me/ about?”

“Shouldn’t you know if you’re a part of me?”

The figure’s smile had more teeth than expected, and for all it’s oily glint, seemed more genuine than any expression Thomas had yet seen. The side slithered to a seat on the couch, to Thomas’s left. One leg crossed over the other as he leaned close, and bright yellow gloves folded demurely, balanced atop his knee.

“As you said, I’m your sarcastic side. You can’t expect me to know everything not directly related to my function. If encompassed everything here, well, I would be you!”

Thomas sniggered, the ball of tension in his chest loosening. “I guess. Well, I’m auditioning for this play, and I need to get into a more villainous mindset.”

“So you decided to talk to the part of yourself that is…villainous?” Sarcasm pulled back, hand flying to his chest. Thomas noticed the teeth on his right side were needle sharp. “I’m hurt!”

“No! Well, I mean, maybe? I need to be suave and cool.” Thomas waved a hand to encompass Sarcasm’s persona. “You know, like a Bond villain!”

Sarcasm lounged against the back of the couch, eyes never leaving the other’s face. “Oh yes Mister Bond, please do try and escape the obviously rigged laser trap. It’s not like I have anything else to do during my master plan, than chase you around my base.”

Thomas wanted Sarcasm’s tone of voice. It was pitched perfectly for the role.

“Yes! That! Exactly!” Thomas straightened his back, trying to emulate the regal set of the other’s shoulders. He couldn’t perfectly mimic what his mind pictured as ideal, but with practice, Thomas was sure he could get it in time for the audition.

Sarcasm stared for one long blink. “Well then, I sssuppose we better get started. It’s not like I’m a construct of your mind, and held here as a captive audience or anything.” He flipped the ends of his short cape. “So what do you want to practice first? I’m sure your poker face for lying /couldn’t/ use any refinement at all.”  
…

When Thomas finally auditioned, the director said they could hardly recognize Thomas on stage. He got the role, got the fantastic solo, and all was right with the world.

…

Meditation was supposed to help with relaxation, so Thomas had taken to practicing as he was falling asleep. He had gotten really good at visualizing his bedroom, possibly because, what with the blank walls and scant pieces of furniture, there wasn’t much to picture.

Sarcasm would pop in sometimes while he meditated, pacing the edges of the visualized space. His quips, in between hints to go for the throat against whatever stray problem of the day was keeping him up, made their way into a few misleading compliment short videos. Sarcasm looked nearly offended when one such half compliment prompted Thomas to leap out of bed to scribble out half a script into a notebook. 

Sarcasm’s other ‘suggestions’, such as pushing the actor who got the lead in place of Thomas in a new play, were promptly shut down.

However, right now the space of his mind was blank, save for the roiling sea of thoughts preventing him from falling asleep.

Usually the meditation helped him calm his worries, organize his thoughts, and contemplate the future, before drifting off to sleep. Other times…

The ocean has unexplored depths, of which mankind might never know, I wonder what will wake up when we finally dive too deep-

Thomas rolled over, wrapping his head into the pillow like a taco. “Oh my god, brain, stop!”

Space is bigger.

“I’m trying to meditate! You know, clear all thoughts from my mind?”

Well that’s no fun! How would you even clean all the thoughts from your brain? Oh, I know, what if you cracked open someone’s skull and literally washed their brain! You know! Brain wash!

Groaning, Thomas curled up like a pill bug. “Ugg, that’s disgusting!”

In his mind’s eye, Thomas could practically see long thin fingers ooze their way out from under the bed, to creep over the covers.

“Hey! Hey! What would you do if a meteor crashed into your house? Would it kill us? Think we could pawn it on the black market? Is calling it a black market racist? Why-“

Thomas pictured throwing his pillow at the speaker. It yelped, and the creeping hands slithered back under the bed.

Thomas gurgled out a sigh, and leaned over the edge of the mattress. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Are you all right?”

When Thomas was six, he had been flipping through TV channels, and passed over a rendition of Evil Dead. The split second of gore and horror, before the channel changed, imprinted on young Thomas’s mind so firmly, that it haunted his nightmares for weeks. His mother had to flash a light into each shadowy closet and corner every night for a month, before Thomas could sleep easily again.

Here, as he leaned to look under the bed, that image- not the actual one from TV, but the taller, larger, inexplicably scarier one his mind had concocted - lunged out from the abyssal depths. 

Thomas yelped, and flung himself back up and under the covers with the lumpy shadows.

A wheezing cackling laugh broke through his pounding pulse.

“Oh man, I haven’t used that one in ages. Fluffy was always good for a scream, right Thomas? Thomas? Hey, Thomas, where’d you go?”

Fright charging his limbs, Thomas threw back his covers. “That was not cool!”

The figure perched at the end of his bed nearly blended into the dark of night, the glints of green and other adornment on his person the only thing pulling his silhouette to the forefront.

Thomas rubbed his upper lip. “Ew, gross, is that what I look like with facial hair?”

The side preened. “Why thank you! It took me a while to really nail down the 80s porn star look, but I think I got it!”

The heel of Thomas’s hand shifted to press into his eye, in a vain attempt to stem off the impending migraine. “So, what are you? Like, my nightmare side?”

“Only in your dreams!” The side’s grin was too too wide, and contained more teeth than even the most un-average human maw could hold. 

Thomas groaned out a sigh. “Ok, so, you’re like, random -thought- THOT.” He drew back, brows furrowed. “Did you just edit my brain as I was thinking?”

The side stuck out his tongue. It spiraled like a corkscrew. “There is no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do!”

“Right, unrepressed stream of consciousness you are. I’m going back to sleep.” Thomas rolled over, pulling the covers up to his chin. He inhaled once, body settling as the air left his lungs.

“Hey.”

The voice came from much too close. Thomas flinched back, eyes flying open to see the green side’s nose less than an inch from his. 

“Oh my god, what?”

His grin was iridescent, like pond scum. “Oh, no need for formality! You can just call me Remus!”

“What?”

“My name, it’s Remus!”

“Wait, you guys have names? Does Sarcasm have a name?”

Remus nodded, causing his greasy curls to bounce. “Yup! Anyway, bye!”

He dove back under the bed, even as Thomas’s fingers snatched after his sash. 

“Wait, what? No, you gotta tell me more! Remus!” With a growl, Thomas threw himself back into his pillows. “This is going to bother me for the rest of the night.”

From the depths beneath the bed, a delighted cackling could be heard.  
…

Thomas rolled over on the couch, trying to get comfortable, while another episode of Parks and Rec played on his TV. He should be asleep. He had been invited to go rock climbing the next day, and so as to not make a potentially deadly mistake, he should get a good night’s rest, so as to have all his mental fortitude.

Not that he was nervous or anything. 

Thomas groaned, practically hearing Sarcasm’s lilt over that particular thought.

He didn’t want to cancel on his friends so last minute, that would be rude.

But he really did not like heights.

But how is he supposed to get over that fear if he doesn’t go out and conquer it!

No, no no! Thomas doesn’t know how to rock climb! He could get hurt! He can’t go!

Thomas rolled over, his attempts to smother himself with the couch cushions seeming to be futile. He squeezed his eyes shut, the familiar visualization in his mind. The shadows seemed longer in the night, more menacing. 

“Ok, I’m worried. What’s making me worried?”

From the corner of the staircase, eyes glinted.

“If you go tomorrow, you’re going to get hurt. You don’t know anything about rock climbing, and you’re afraid of heights! What if you freeze up? Your upper body strength could use work too, what if your grip fails, and you fall? And you only know the one person who will be in the group that’s going, so you’ll be making a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of strangers too, and-”

Thomas took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Ok. Clearly the situation is making me uncomfortable. I’m sure if I just explain the situation, then they won’t mind if I cancel.”

The hunched figure on the stairs rolled his face up from his knees. In the light from the TV, Thomas could see layered dark shadows under the figure’s eyes, as if the personification of insomnia got hit hard with the goth stick one two many times.

“But if you do that, they might not invite you to any more things, and you’ll be left out and alone.”

Thomas frowned. “Or they will invite me to other things that don’t make me uncomfortable.”

The figure hunched closer into itself, like coiling fog. “He’ll probably ask to go parasailing next time, or something.”

Thomas shared a shudder with the figure. “Oh, I hope not! Boats and heights? That’s just- nope!”

The figure sniggered, face still buried behind the folds of his soft looking sweatshirt.

Thomas craned to get a clearer view of his face, but still didn’t see much past the eyeshadow and drooping bangs. “So you’re, what, my cautious side? My spidey sense for danger?”

“Yeah, whatever, I guess.”

“Well, Caution, it’s nice to meet you.”  
…

Later, heart racing, Thomas called his friend. For half a heartbeat, a lie curled itself onto the tip of his tongue, to make up some excuse for why he couldn’t make it. He squashed the inclination before it could take hold. Lying was wrong. His friend would understand.

…

“Need ideas for videos.” Thomas kneaded the space between his eyebrows. “Come on brain, do your job!”

A commercial jingle echoed between the confines of his mind.

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“Ugg, Remus, can you quiet down?”

There was the sound of a record scratch, then the green wearing side rolled out form under the bed. He had a kazoo in his mouth, which he used to blow a rude raspberry, before restarting the jingle from the beginning.

Thomas growled, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table.

“You know, if you just let your mind wander, instead of trying stifle me into some box, you might actually get some good ideas for your content.”

Thomas jumped at the mouth speaking so closely to his face, he could feel their breath against his skin. Remus’s grin skittered across is face, like a film skipping frames

“Well at least you stopped-“

Remus proceeded to blow the kazoo directly into his ear.

“Why?????”

“There is no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do!”

“So we’ve established, yes.” Thomas groaned.

With a slurp, the kazoo vanished behind pointed teeth, before dying with a crunch. 

“Ah music, my favorite meal of the day. Right after cleaning products. For your body. Do you ever want to just take a bite out of a bar of soap? Better than tide pods, for sure! I wonder when we’ll get earth wind and fire pods to go with the tide pods, then we’ll have the complete set of elements to eat, and do you ever wonder what would have happened in Avatar the Last Airbender if Zuko got a dragon, and hey, dragons are cool, what if there was a prince who saved dragons from evil princesses, like an environmental conservation prince-“

Remus grimaced, as if tasting something bad in his mouth. “Ugg, I have no idea where that boring idea came from.”

“No, no, I liked where it was going…Hm.” Thomas scratched out a line on the paper, then, as if the flood gates were opened, a rush of words began to spill from his pen.

Remus pouted. “I can see where I’m not wanted! I’ll just leave you here with your /boring/ ideas! Call me when you want to do something actually /fun/!”

Thomas waved over his shoulder, not looking up from his desk.  
…


End file.
